
Qass. 
Book. 



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n ^^moriam* 



DISCOURSES 

IN COMMEMORATION OF O^^ 

Abraham Lincoln, 

PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, 



DBLIVKRED IN THE 



SOUTH CHURCH, SALEM, 

April 16th, and June 1st, 1865, 



BY THE PASTOE, 



Rev. E. S. \A.tAvood. 



SALEM: 

PRINTED AT THK OFFICE OF THE SALEM GAZKTTK. 
1865. 



®he latiott'jsi Wi0^% 



A. DISCOURSE 



SELITERED OX THE SUXDAT MOKNIXa AFTER THE 



ASSASSINATION OF 



President Lincoln, 



SOUTH CHURCH, SALEM, 



Jl.prU 16, ISOo, 



By Rev, E. S. Atwood, 



PASTOR. 



SALEM: 

PEIXTED AT THE OFFICE OP THE SALEM GAZETTE. 
1865. 



.Ass 



<f^^' 



SERMON. 



2 SAJirET. I, 19. 



" The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high 

PLACES : HOW AKE THE MIGHTY FALLEN." 

We come into the house of God this morning, 
under a cloud so dense, so dark, so appalling, 
that, like children in the night, we know not which 
way to turn. A week ago, and these walls rang 
with jubilant strains of praise for the victories we 
had won, and for the foregleams of peace, that 
shone along the path, — but to day God gives us for 
beaut}^, ashes — for the oil of joy, mourning — for 
the garment of praise, the spirit of heaviness. In 
the very hour of our triumph, a blow as terrible as it 
was unforeseen comes with stunning force to re- 
mind us that the brightest morning may widen in- 
to the darkest day ; — that it is not in man who 
walketh, to direct his steps. Our good and wise 
President, the Father of his people, endeared to all 
whose esteem and affection was worth having, by 
his many virtues and few faults, by his wise, cau- 
tious, kindly policy, in the very moment when his 
almost superhuman efforts in behalf of liberty and 
law seemed fruiting into success, has fallen by the 



hand of a cowardly assassin, and millions are or- 
phaned by the stroke. Environed with a nation's 
afTection^ with thousands ready to bare their breasts 
to shield him from the bolt that would do him hurt, — 
in an unguarded hour, keen scented treason tracks 
him to his place of fancied security, and with das- 
tardly outrage and cruel wrong, strikes strait at his 
life. True, others high in place and power, suffer 
with him, but what are they ? What is any man's 
life in comparison with his ? All other grief is poor 
beside this the great grief, all other sorrow is swal- 
lowed up and lost in this overflowing flood. 

And yet it is not for him that our tears fall. 
The going out of his life was not the lengthened 
decline of manly powers, the sad fading out of 
strength into imbecility, the protracted hopeless 
fight for breath, whose bitterness brings a relief when 
it is ended. He went through no dim twilight 
lengthening into night, but as the tropic sun makes 
swift transition from day to darkness — his sorrow 
endured but for a ni<iht — 



" And wlu'n the sun in all his state 

Ilhuned tlic Eastern skies. 
He passed throu<»h (glory's morning gate 

And walked in Paradise." 



We Mere s|>arod the long hours of an.xious 
wat(;hing — the tasking alternations of ho|)e and fear 
— the suspense that is worse than cortaiiity. IJet- 
tor f«»r him, l)clt('r fur us, better for the wiioh' nation 



— that if the blow must Ml, it should be sharp and 
decisive. We at once are set face to face with our 
grief; and for him, it was a brief transit from labor 
to reward. 

He has gone too in the supreme summer of his 
renown. The index finger pointed to high noon on 
the dial of his fame. He leaves behind him an un- 
sullied record. Some men tarry too long. Many 
outlive their greatness. The mistakes and follies of 
their last years so cloud their earlier renown, that 
history knows not, Avhether most to blame or praise. 
There are but few whose claims to reverent affection 
are not tarnished by a long lease of power — and we 
are fain to 

" Walk backward with averted gaze 
And hide their shame." 

Not SO with him. We may unroll his record in 
the broadest day. An ardent patriot — a wise states- 
man — too honest for the chicanery of diplomatic 
art — too steadfast in his purpose to do right to be 
moved by fears and bribes — a patient man, knowing 
that events must have time to ripen, and willing to 
wait — inflexible in resolve, holding right on towards 
the good he set himself to work out, always willing 
to receive counsel, but weighing it well before he 
acted upon it — his greatest fault, a heart too large 
and kindly — too sanguine in its trust of human na- 
ture — with qualities like these it is no marvel that 
he should have grown in men's estimation, till he 
stood in the front rank of rulers. His greatness 



was no accident. It was compacted by honest 
growth — and the impress of it cannot pass away 
like a title or a hereditary crown. We looked for it 
to stretch up to larger heights, to put on more stal- 
wart proportions — we fondly prophesied of future 
plans and measures, that would widen and brighten 
his fair fame — but God said, " It is enough" — " Well 
done good and faithful servant" — " Come up higher." 
He has left to history the legacy of an unsullied 
name — he has furnished the generations to come, 
with the example of a man uncorrupted by position, 
unspoiled by power — who with almost unequalled 
opportunities never abused them — so scant a self- 
seeker, that he never saw, or seeing, never turned 
his chances to account. It is something for a nation 
to liave given such a man to tlie world — it is much 
for a man to have so proved himself worthy of the 
respect of future generations. We have no tears 
for him, who has shown himself so meet for the can- 
onization of history. 

But for ourselves we may well weep. These 
trappings of sorrow — this sable, fringing and shad- 
owing the nation's flag — these wailing Misereres 
that rise in the place of the joyful I'^aster Jubilates 
that we thought to sing — they are but poor symbols 
of the grief that lies too deep for tears. What has 
he not been to us — tliis higli i)riest of Freed<tm — 
nmrdered at the altar? Remember the turmoil, the 
terror, tlie chaos of the hour, when he came with liis 
manly self reliance, and calm faiOi in Ood, to lay his 
stronii' liaiiil ui)oii the helm, 'flic nation was in tor- 



rible straits — disintegrating every hour, threatening 
to fall into utter incoherence — with only a wreck of 
rubbish to mark the place where it stood. There 
was no army, no navy, no weapons, no finance, and 
a haughty and confident foe were thundering at the 
gates of the capitol. Pettifogging statesmen were 
splitting straws, and weighing words, to find out 
whether a nation had the right of self preservation 
— timid men were making overtures of submission 
and peace. He came, and his first words had the 
ring of resolve — " Seventy-five thousand men to the 
front " — and as though a Deity had spoken the North 
swarmed with armies. The whole land awoke, and 
hope and courage beat in every breast. Then came 
defeat, and as our routed hosts were driven back, 
men asked what next ? " Three hundred thousand 
more," — and so on till a half a million moved at 
his orders. Generals proved weak, and in spite 
of their prestige and the popular esteem, they 
were removed to make room for others till the true 
leaders were found. Foreign nations frowned defiance 
— but his earnest purpose and matchless tact foiled 
their schemes of aggression. With a wisdom as far 
reaching as it was sagacious, led by events instead 
of anticipating them, he worked for sure rather than 
swift results, and when his preparations were com- 
pleted, when the continent shook with the tread of 
his armies, when his fleets covered the sea, when the 
coffers of state were full, when the tried generals 
were found, then came the crushing blows that re- 
duced fort after fort, that conquered state after 



8 

state, that routed army after army, till treason was 
left without head or home. What has not this man 
done for us under God ? Safe through the Red Sea, 
across the waste howling wilderness, to the borders 
of the Promised Land he has led us. From the 
Pisgah height of the hour, God permitted him to 
look upon its goodliness. which he was not to enjoy. 
As we take up once more the line of march, with our 
unproved Joshua at the head, we do well to water 
with tears the grave of our Moses, whom we leave 
behind. 

The oppressed and down-trodden slave has reason 
to mourn. While cautious politicians, and men who 
had not outgrown their old fealty to a Southern 
oligarchy, were clamorous against any attempt to lay 
hands upon this consolidated iniquity — while army 
officers were returnin<>; trembling; fuii'itives to their 
old taskmasters — while cabinet officers, belying old 
professions, were dissenting and dissuading — the man 
who dared to do riglit, sat down and wrote the 
Proclamation of Freedom, that snapped the fetters 
of toiling millions, and broke open tlie prison house 
of despair. With the stroke of his jkmi lie created 
a race, and pointed them the upward road to man- 
hood and civilization. His name became a household 
deity. Over a tliousand miles of territory there 
went up niglitiy, from every l)ondman's hut, a i)rayer 
for (lod's blessing to rest upon him. Tliey looked 
at iiionrmg to i-atch the gleam (•!' his coming l)an- 
ners ; tiicy listened at night lor the tread of his 
advancing hosts ; and tliough they waited long, they 



9 

knew the man, and the promise was fulfilled — the 
deliverance dawned at last. To their personal affec- 
tion and trust, the nation's Flag was only the sym- 
bol of his individual power ; the marching armies 
only the creatures of his good will. They called him 
Master, not of constraint, but of choice. They crowd- 
ed to catch sight of his face, they coupled his name 
with that of the world's Redeemer, and he was, in a 
sense, iheir Messiah, the seed of the woman, appointed 
to bruise the head of the serpent, in whose folds so 
many generations of their race had been crushed. 
It was a bitter day for them when their deliverer 
fell. Other men may confirm to them their promised 
rights, but his heart conceived, and his brain com- 
pacted, the plan that solved the problem, before 
which so many wise and brave men had stood 
bewildered and aghast. 

And there is yet another class in the land who 
have occasion to grieve — the rebels and traitors in 
whose interest he was slain. No other man was dis- 
posed to look so leniently on their deserts ; to deal 
so kindly with iheir sins. Treason has lost its most 
considerate enemy ; the man who has stood, and 
would have continued to stand, between them and 
the meting out of a too severe justice. Stern and 
unrelenting as he was in war, he loved better the 
office of a peace-maker. Tie would have smoothed 
the way of return to amity and union ; his hand 
would have sown the seeds of forgetfulness on the 
graves of the past ; he would have tempered justice 
with mercy, and taught even vengeance to say 



10 

amen. Their maniac and fiendish act has lifted into 
power a man who has felt the cords of rebellion) 
tightening on his own neck ; who has been stripped 
of his property and driven from his home, by the 
men with whom he is now to make terms. It will 
be small wonder if he prove himself plastic in the 
hands of an indignant people, and execute justice 
without stint or measure. 

History offers but a single parallel to the greatness 
of the crime The same misfortune once before befell 
a Republic struggling for national life. And the 
parallel is so exact that as one rends the description 
of it in the History of the Netherlands, a few 
chanii-es of names and dates make it an exact rec- 
ord. " William, Prince of Orange," writes Mr. Mot- 
ley, "had been murdered on the lOtli of July, 
1584. It is difficult to imagine a more universal 
disaster, than the one thus brought about by the 
hand of a single obscure man. Fur years the char- 
acter of the Prince had been expanding steadily, as 
the difficulties of his situation increased, llabit, 
necessity, and the natural gifts of the man, had 
combined to invest him at last with an authority 
which seemed more than human. There was such 
g(3n<'i;il (•(»iiri(lence in his sagacity, courage and pu- 
ritv, that tiie nation had come to think with his 
])r;iin n\u\ act with his hand. It was natural, that 
for an instant, there should be a feeling as of abso- 
lute ;md holploss paralysis. Wliatever liis technical 
.•iHiiliiitos iit thf polity of tlic nation, there is no 
doiil'i thai he stood tiiore the head of a common- 



11 

wealth, in an attitude such as had been maintained 
by but few of the kings or chiefs or high priests of 
history. Assassination had produced in this instance, 
after repeated disappointments, the result at last, 
which had been so anxiously desired. The ban of 
the Pope and the offered gold of the King, had 
accomplished a victor}^ greater than any yet achieved 
by the armies of Spain, brilliant as had been their 
triumphs on the blood-stained soil of the Nether- 
lands." And yet, though thus left without their 
natural head, a guiding Providence raised up men 
for the emergency, and they fought through bitter 
years of war, to an assured liberty and peace. 

As we feel in the first shock of this calamity our 
hearts almost sinking to despair, we may take 
courage as we read this record of a departed centur}^, 
and of an old struggle out of which come some of 
the seeds of our own nationality. As our departed 
President said after one of our sore defeats — " God 
still lives, and the people." We take up his pro- 
phetic words. Being dead, he yet speaketh. There 
is no reason for terror. There is a might still living 
in freemen's arms. There are disciplined hosts who, 
with every instinct of patriotism, and the skill of 
veterans, stand between the nation and mortal peril. 
There are matchless generals, every throb of whose 
pulse is for liberty and law. There are statesmen 
wise in counsel, and true to freedom, who plan for 
the common weal. And more than all, there is an 
Omnipotent God, of sleepless justice, whose eye, 
never closed, watches our welfare. Away with 



12 



cowardly forebodings. They are the phantoms that 
scare children from their sleep, but which vanish 
before the gaze of resolute manhood. We have 
stern work before us, and a stern challenge summons 
us to duty. 

We are to make inquisition for blood. Who 
perpetrated this outrage ? and in whose interest ? 
We are told that the authorities are on the track of 
certain individuals, and have ofl'ered large rewards 
for their apprehension. Yes, these are the technical 
criminals, but where are the originators and abettors 
of the conspiracy? This scheme of murder was not 
coined in some fanatic's brain. These hunted fugi- 
tives were but the facile tools, in unseen hands 
behind the curtain. The plot has been four years 
in maturing. Who waylaid and strove to hinder, 
with bowie knife and pistol, the President's first 
entry to the capital? Who has taken men, guilty of 
no crime but loyalty, and shot and hung and tor- 
tured them with unnameable hurrorsT Who has 
herded helpless prisoners in filthy dungeons^ and 
wretched stockades, and sulijeuled them to all the 
horrors of starvation, adding to this, every device of 
cruelty, that might put fiends to the blush ? Who 
lias l>eon writing to foreign sheets, that we wore 
speedily to know in an unsuspected way what their 
vengeance could aci;omi)lish ? Before high Heaven, 
I charge the leaders (tf the Kebellidii, and their 
aiders and abettors, North and South, with this foul 
Mild iiiDst iiuiiatmal crime. Tlio bells will clash 
nicnilv ill the iriniiaiil (»!" tlic Con(oderac\', and the 



blood-thirsty crowd will shout themselves hoarse 
with savage joy, when the tidings reach them, of 
their deliberate vengeance accomplished. The pious 
hypocrite who heads them, will stay long enough in 
his flight to dictate an order for Te-Deums to be 
sung in the churches. The boasted chivalry, the 
scum and refuse of humanity, will gloat large-eyed 
and eager-eared, over the details of the dying 
agonies of the great and good and wise President 
whom God has taken to himself. Their brutal 
shouts, borne on the far Southern winds that should 
faint with the burden they carry, will mingle with 
your tolling bells, and the sad sounds of your grief 
And when you have borne your common Father to 
his burial, and laid him down with tender and pious 
care, in his honored grave, that is to be the grave of 
new pilgrimages in the ages to come, then sleek, 
complaisant men, will whisper in your ears — "Deal 
gently with these erring brethren. Bury the past 
in forgetfulness, and yield something to their preju- 
dices, for the sake of union and peace." And iiill you 
do it? Woe, woe, to this land, if it lay not judgment 
to the line, and justice to the plummet. I ask for no 
vengeance. Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith 
the Lord. But I plead for Justice, Truth and Right- 
eousness. By this mute symbolism of woe, that 
speaks with an eloquence that no human lips can 
equal — by a nation's bitter grief, whose last consum- 
mate blossom is ripe — by the uncoffined form of 
the brave, true man, who lies in the capitol, scarred 
with the gaping wounds that treason gave — b}^ all 



14 

that can move good men to action, — I cJiarr/c i/ou stand 
firm, come what will. Your leader died for liberty. 
A costlier sacrifice no nation ever gave. Shall the 
pleadings of ease or gain, or the craft of wily men, 
swerve you from a like lo3^alty ? Let not the babble 
of magnammitij be heard in our streets. The sword 
in the clenched hand, and the strong right arm, must 
dictate terms of truce. Blot every word but submis- 
sion out of the vocabulary of negotiation. And so in 
God's Providence, that chastens us to-day for our too 
easy virtue, the hour will come, when ancient foe- 
men will mingle their tears over the grave of their 
common friend, and the fair form of Freedom, on 
wdiose altar he was sacrificed, will stand white-robed 
and lustrous beside the spot, herself a nobler monu- 
ment than beaten gold or speaking marble, raised 
to his honor by a grateful and reverent nation. 

So let us rise up from our grief — shaking otf 
this dull pressing sense of pain — or deadening it l»y 
action. The issues of the hour permit us to tarry 
long at no man's grave. The stern voice of Duty 
cries — " Let the dead bury their dead, but follow 
thou me." The innocent blood that was spilled is a 
fresh baptism, consecrating us to service. We may 
not refuse to hcai- the sumnmns Let us rise \\\\ 
chastened by our deep alHiction — stronger, braver, 
holier men ;ind women — feeling more than ever th;it 
we are not our own — strijijied still more of our reli- 
ance ujion men — more patient to endure The 
falher sleeps — but IIk; children live, and live to 
struggle and to (•(•ii(|uer. 



15 

Above all, let us rise up with quickened faith in 
God, and the country's cause. He has rolled away 
the clouds before now — he will do it again. We are 
cast down but not destroyed — perplexed but not in 
despair. God lives, and while he lives we may hope 
and be strong. The nation stoops to day to drink of 
the stream of Marah, and cries out at the bitter 
draught, but to-morrow the waters will be sweet and 
clear. Our Flag is not all shrouded in mourning, 
we but border its edges with sable — and out of its 
funereal fringes, its radiant stripes still gleam with 
their symbolism of promise, its stars still shine from 
their field of azure Our sorrow is not our history, 
only the dark hem that shades for a little its bright- 
ness. Over the sad pall that covers our buried hopes 
bloom the bright flowers of resurrection."-' 



*Oii the Communion Table, which was draped with black, stood 
a profusion of white roses, in wreaths and clusters. 



Wxt f j'tsiidtitt'is Record 



A DISCOURSE 



DELIVERED ON THE DAY OF THE 



NATIONAL FAST, 



SOUTH CHURCH, SALEM, 

JUNE 1, 1865, 

By Rev. E. S. Atwood, 



FASTOR. 



SALEM: 

PRINTED AT THE OFFICE OF THE SAI.EM GAZKTTE 

1865. 



%^ 



SERMON. 



Job XVI, is, 19. 



" EARTH COVER NOT THOU MY BLOOD, AXD LET .MY 
CRY HAVE NO PLACE. BeHOLD MY WITNESS is IN HEAVEN, 
AND MY RECORD IS ON HIGH." 

Every great man writes his own epitaph. His 
contemporaries endeavor to do it for him, but they 
are apt to run so much to extremes — and exagger- 
ate either his virtues or his vices — that their esti- 
mates must be taken with allowance. A friendly 
partisan will go to the extent of canonization, as- 
cribing all excellences, human and divine, to his 
idol — hardly allowing imperfection enough to prove 
him mortal. A hostile pen will write him down, as 
far as the friend wrote him up. From either side, 
he is viewed through the bewildering mist of preju- 
dice or partiality, which permits men only to be seen 
as trees walking, and one must needs take a gen- 
eral average of all opinions, to approximate to an 
accurate judgment. Fortunately, however, we are 
not shut up to this complicated work. The great 
man writes his own epitaph. He stamps a certain 
impress on his own age — he gets a greater or less 
leverage upon the future — he leaves behind him the 
record of a character, whose prominent traits admit 



20 

of no mistakes — and most con^monly bequeathes to> 
coming generations some elaboration of words or 
works that remains as his lasting monument. All 
other testimonials are changing and transitory, but 
this self declaration of his life, is a " record written 
on high " — graven as with a pen of iron^ and the 
point of a diamond, ineffiiceable forever. 

As we gather again to-day to sing dirges for our 
honored dead, to commemorate with due observance, 
the worth of departed greatness, this fact may 
serve to fix the thought of the hour. The tablet 
erected in St. Paul's Cathedral to Sir Christopher 
Wren, the architect of the mighty pile, bears the 
inscription, " If you seek his monument look around 
you." So let the votive offering read, which we 
raise to-dav to the memory of the martvred Presi- 
dent. His own acts, are his best and all sufficient 
eulogy. He needs no fulsome adulation — no over- 
wrought panegyric. His simple worth is his patent 
of nobility, his title to a historic throne. 

Considered sini[>ly as a man, whose character was 
shaped by republican theories and institutions, his 
record is noteworthy. He was a kind of first fruits 
of American Democracy. There has been a widely 
credited delusion across the sea, that gentle blood 
and aristocratic training were indispensable to the 
making of the best sort of humanity. A compre- 
hensive statesmaiishij) that could rise above vulgar 
})rcjudice, and partisan interests, was supposed to be 
impossil)lc, outside of certain lines of caste. Every 
Muntjtcan gdViMiiiiiciil is Inumlcd on the presump- 



21 



tion, that it is not safe to trust supreme power in the 
hands of any but the elect few. The whole class- 
system of the Continent is a protest against the dig- 
nity of man as man. But here is a true child of the 
people — of humble birth and surroundings, owing 
nothing to the class of externals so highly prized — 
tutored after the rough wilderness flishion, brought 
up to swing the axe and ply the oar — nursing great 
thoughts within him as he tracks through the forest, 
or tides down the rapids — now pursuing the peace- 
ful avocations of his humble life, and now riding 
foremost in the fierce raids of border war — making 
his way at last with such scant helps as he could 
compass into the mysteries of jurisprudence — then 
passing from one rude court of justice to another — 
growing all the time in power and fame — assisted 
and cheered by the generous nature of our institu- 
tions whose honors are offered to the humblest aspi- 
rant, till at last he reaches the steps of the Presi- 
dential mansion, and an according nation opens wide 
the doors to his coming. And now comes the test- 
ing which is to show whether this man is a fortunate 
political trickster, or the true heir-apparent to the 
throne. The winds of anarchy and rebellion are let 
loose — the surges of civil war, tumultuous, threaten- 
ing, blood red, rise roaring to the skies. Of the 
crew some are mutinous, some terror-stricken — the 
bravest, doubtful. Who is this man that stands su- 
preme like a God at the helm — steering right on 
through the wild swirl of the waves — when all the 
pilotage of studied statesmanship is at fault, simple 



22 



right, the pole-star that burns before him, through the 
blackest cloud — patriotic self-devotion, the compass 
that keeps liim to his course — fearless of disaster, 
sure of reaching his haven — holding on and holding 
out, till the storm has spent its rage, and the sea 
goes down — and the peaceful continent rises and 
builds itself above the dip of the waves, before the 
rejoicing sight? Who is this master mariner un- 
known to fiime, who out-pilots the great captains of 
history ? Who, but the child of the wilderness, the 
woodman's lad — the boatinan's boy of old — ma- 
tured by republican institutions, till lie compre- 
hends state-craft b}' intuition, and dares beyond the 
ventures of the schools — and justifies his daring by 
success. After crediting all that is due to his native 
powers, it still remains undeniable that his great- 
ness could have found expansion and readied ri[)0- 
ness under no other form of national life. As a 
prince of history he is purely and wholly of our 
making. His record is a perpetual answer, to the 
mocking question ol" monarchies and aristocracies — 
" Can auv goud come out uf the Nazareth ofDemoc- 
racy?" ^ 

If we turn now from the sim[)le man, to his exer- 
cise of some of the specific functions uf his position, 
W(! liiid lli.it he has an hoimrahh' record as a tcaclwr. 
I have seen a caricature that represents liim as a 
schoolmaster, setting coi)ies for the kings, who fill 
the benches as pupils. The humorist's conception is 
pregnant with solemn meaning. He ha^ discovered 
and tauglit a new "lenuMit in the science of govern- 



23 

nient. As in strict jurisprudence, there is both 
statute and common law, so in the jurisprudence of 
empire, there is not only constitutional law but, 
over and above that, the higher common law of 
God. Imperial edicts and legislative enactments 
are not necessarily final. Yet vicious statesmanship 
has been wont to point to codes and canons, as the 
justification of the most iniquitous measures. The 
people have meekly bowed down to infamous enact- 
ments, titled with the sacred name of law, though 
their homage was given to some ugly Fetish, wiiose 
lineaments wore no trace of the Eternal Righteous- 
ness. They have been tutored, as one has said, into 
" an awful idea of law, as if it were some granite 
pillar around which the floating particles of human 
life aggregate themselves — as if men were the mere 
incidents of it." It is related of the Duke of Wel- 
lington, that he was wakened one night by a mili- 
tary officer, who came to report that a certain strat- 
egic movement was impossible. The Duke called 
for the order-book — and turning over the leaves an- 
swered at last — " Impossible ? not at all impossible 
— why, it stands written in the Order Book." So 
statesmen have thought and taught, that there were 
no possibilities outside of the statute Men must 
swear by the parchment, though in so doing they 
blasphemed God. The world had waited long for a 
man of power, who should teach that this theory was 
unrighteous and impolitic both, and who should 
push his teachings to a practical issue. It had 
watched and wearied for a ruler, who should en- 



24 

throne the law of Divine Right above the force 
of human statutes, and prove the wisdom of his 
estimate. Humanity cried out for a leader who 
should dare trust to the last results of simple trutli, 
even though at the first, it should grind existing 
codes to powder. Nature was eloquent on this point. 
When the still chemistry of sunshine and summer 
winds and showers is powerless to rid the air of its 
poisonous vapors, God draws the bare white light- 
ning from its scabbard, and wields it flaming on 
the forefront of the storm. History was full of 
witness, with its long roll of martyrs, whose stand 
for right as against law had built up some cause 
into massive strength. But where was the man that 
should teach that righteousness, even though con- 
trary to the statute, was the first principle of 
statesmanship ? He came at last. Our martyred 
President was the best exemplar of a ruler sworn 
to rio-ht tliat the world has ever seen. He was not 
born and bred to this high virtue — he did not grow 
into it all at once— not even swiftly — but he grew 
surely. He left the beaten path of precedent, at 
first with timid tread — but liis footfall was finner, 
Willi (Nicli forward stop. Old and titled wrongs, 
buttressed by the Constitution, and Congressional 
enactments, ])locked the way. Veteran statesmen 
warned, frightened conservatives prayed ; but to no 
puri)Ose. Whicli way the finger of God pointed, he 
went, tliougli lie trode compacts and compromises 
uiidci- his heel. It was the only road to victory. 
The le«nMi(l runs concerning King Arthur, the 



25 

'^Flowei' of kings," that one day out of the boiling 
waves, a great white hand was thrust forth, holding 
a sword, bearing the inscription that he who wielded 
it should be invincible, and with that flashing blade 
Excalibur, he drove the heathen in utter rout. So 
out of the foaming surges of the hour, the hand of 
God reached forth the sword of Justice —the only 
blade that could end the strife — and grasping that, 
our leader drove our enemies, as chaff before the 
wind. Before all other expedients were abandoned to 
make place for the simple methods of truth and right- 
eousness, everything was in confusion and at cross 
purposes. There was no unity of plan, and small ad- 
vance towards the wished for triumph. Our infre- 
quent victories evaporated in bulletins, and left no 
residuum of solid gain. But when the man we 
mourn said " Henceforth all for Justice," a new pow- 
er entered the contest. That was masterly states- 
manship that made Gcd an ally. From that hour, 
the multiplied forces of Omnipotence were auxilia- 
ries. The muster roll held the names of the smallest 
part of the army. The morning reveille wakened a 
host unseen by mortal eyes. The long roll of the 
drums, set in battle array a great company out of 
sight. Side by side with the nation's flag that 
waved over the charging lines, floated the ensign 
of the Lord of Hosts. It was no longer a doubtful 
strife. Every seeming defeat became a real victory, 
and triumph followed triumph till the last foe was 
subdued. And so this man has become schoolmas- 
ter to all future time, teaching the nations, that to 



26 

do light is the supremest wisdom of rulers. This is 
no longer an abstract theory of morals. It has been 
put to the test, and its virtue proved. Henceforth, 
godless statesmanship must be dumb before this 
shining witness. The testimony is in heaven, the 
record is on high, beyond the reach of effacing 
hands. 

And what shall we say of this man as Deliverer ? 
— the greatest knov/n to history, whether we con- 
sider the number of the bondmen, or the soreness 
of the bondage. The world held no such infernal 
riot of wrong, as American slavery. High treason 
against God and man, it bred unnumbered crimes. 
Men heard the smothered cries that came up from 
the prison house of despair, but the sound was dead- 
ened by the din of the tramp with which tliey "kept 
step to the music of the Union." Generations 
were born in the darkness of captivity, moaned and 
struggled a while for light, and died. Never till the 
earthquake of civil war shook the foundations of 
state, did the charnel house yawn, and reveal its 
nameless horrors. In its greed for gold and gain, 
the nation was coining the souls and bodies of men 
into money — and knew not what il was doing. 
Many a millionaire built his mansion on outrage and 
wrong. The limlxMs of his honso wei'c the bones of 
innocent victims. For every adorning, some broth- 
er man liad groaned and smarted under the lash. 
And we laughed and sang and feasted, and glorified 
American IjilxMly. wliilc lliis cruel woi'k went on. 
It was a master stroki; that burst open the {)rison 



27 

doors, and broke the fetters from these millions of 
bondmen. The scratch of the pen, in that quiet 
room, writing the Proclamation of Emancipation, 
will be heard for ever. History, like a vast whis- 
pering gallery, will reduplicate the sound and pass 
it on to the ages to come. It has been heard 
already the breadth of the continent and across th^ 
sea. It outran the tramp of armies and distanced 
the roar of cannon. It went down through the val- 
leys of Virginia, through the pine barrens and the 
rice fields of the Carolinas — it rang along the ever- 
glades of Florida — it reached to the canebrakes and 
cotton fields of Louisiana — the Alleghanies echoed ■ 
it to the Rocky Sierras, the Father of Waters caught 
up the sound and rolled it like sweetest music to the 
gulf The glad winds blew it to every bondman's 
hut, to every haughty master's door — yea, even to 
hunted fugitives, hidden in reeking swamps or 
mountain fastnesses. And Avhat sound had ever 
power like that, in whose hearing millions woke to 
manhood? Tyrants and oppressors trembled — but 
the poor, the despised, the outcast, the downtrodden, 
hailed it with songs of jubilee, and a nation was 
born in a day. 

Let Abraham Lincoln be known to posterity by 
no other name than that of the Great Emancipator, 
and his fame is secure. No other man ever dared 
so much in such a cause. In one sense he risked 
everything. He had not numbered his friends, but 
he knew that his enemies were many and strong. 
Jealous ambition was eager to cast him down from 



28 



his high position. Partisan clamor was loud against 
the measure. Threats and abuse were lavished in 
unstinted abundance. Prudent counsellors, who had 
the good of the country at heart, doubted the wis- 
dom of his course. It might cost him all that pub- 
lic men hold dear. But he held the fetters of four 
millions of bondmen in his hand — and he broke tlicin 
with a word. Never was grander blow struck, and 
never was brave and good deed more richly reward- 
ed. The blessings of myriads ready to perish, de- 
scended like gracious dew upon his head. Treason 
staggered under the mighty stroke. A reverent 
people woke to a new sense of his greatness, and 
placed him once more in the highest seat of honor. 
The carping nations stilled their hisses, and owned 
his right to royalty. In that supreme hour of his 
glory, his potent pen wrote a witness in heaven and 
a record on high, of which the loftiest might be 
proud. Other men are enrolled in the chronicles of 
time ;is groat conquerors, generals, scholars, nion- 
archs, but history graves in deepest lines, on her 
whitest tablet, the name of Abraham Lincoln, the 
Emancipator of a nation. 

Witli sucli a record as this, wliat plare is there for 
formal iMilogy? Need it be said tliat the honored 
lif(! now closed, was a magnificent success? As 
man and ruler — as teacher — as deliverer, he stands 
before the august magistracy of the world's opinion, 
to receive no doiibtful verdict. Whatever Itefalls 
the nalifin, ///s' fame is secure. It takes nothing 
from the round fuhiess of his life that ho did not live 



29 

to see the ripe harvest of his labors. The assassin's 
work was a failure if he hoped to balk him of his 
great name. 

" They never fail who die 
In a great cause. The block may soak their gore ; 
Their heads may sodden in the sun, their limbs 
Be strung to city gates and castle walls, 
But still their spirit walks abroad. Though years 
Elapse, and others share as dark a doom, 
They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts 
Which overpower all others, and conduct 
The world at last to freedom." 

And with him it was a coronation act, that added 
the martyr's crown to the royal robe. It lifted him 
to a higher degree of exaltation. Peer before, to 
the great of the earth, he was admitted to the no- 
ble army that have sealed their faithfulness with 
their blood. It wanted but this triumphal ending to 
fill the measure of his renown beyond the possibility 
of waste or cavil. 

And how shall we fitly reverence his memory ? 
how testify to our appreciation of the work he has 
wrought for us ? True, a grateful people has de- 
creed to him royal honors. The whole land has 
been shrouded in mourning. The sable banners 
have been flung out from every wall. The sanctu- 
aries of God have put on the weeds of woe. The 
marts of commerce and the halls of pleasure have 
robed themselves in sackcloth. The very streets 
have gathered blackness. The continent bowed its 
head and wept at his funeral hour. We have borne 



30 

him to his burial, ull the long road from the Capitol 
to his far o'flf Western home, throuo;h thronorino; 
thousands pressing to see if but the shadow of the 
dead President might fall on them as he passed — 
clearing the way before him with solemn pomp — 
sendinii- after him on the nifi;ht wind our wailing; 

o o o 

Misereres — till the grave received him out of our 
sight. And now we take this bright day fi'om the 
garland of summer hours, to lay it as a new ollering 
upon his tomb. A thousand monuments to his 
memory are builded already in the thoughts of a 
loving people ; the nation accepts the sacred trust of 
his family. All this is much, but it is not all nor 
the best that is due to his worth. 

A nation can pay no other tribute so honorable 
to its departed great men, as the pushing to com- 
pleteness of their unfinished work. Our heroes live 
for us still, when they live and move in our theories 
and actions, and stir us to the great deeds which 
they purposed, but were not suffered to do. Their 
hopes and plans were more to them than empty 
fame. They strove with death, not because it robbed 
them (if tlujir renown, but because it hindered tliciii 
from tlieir will. To gather uj) the broken threads 
they left, and weave out their pattern to perfectness 
is the fittest rewnrd our loving hands can bestow. 

To day from tliat lar off grave, where the mar- 
tyr sleeps, there swells u)) llic x-oice, " Oh oarlli cov- 
er thou not my blood, so that my cry have no 
place." Let the words ring in our ears, let the il- 
lustrious dead live still, in the grand purpose of the 



31 



nation he helped to save. He toiled and died for 
liberty, but the great work is not yet accomplished. 
He spent and was spent, to establish the Republic 
on the firm basis of Immutable Righteousness. As a 
wise master builder, he has laid the foundation, and 
left it for others to build thereupon. His own pa- 
tient hands, squared the corner stone of his noblest 
monument. The completion of his work will be no- 
bler tribute to his worth, than tolling bells, and 
muffled drums, and sobbing cannon and vast proces- 
sional pomp, — more even than the heaven-piercing 
shaft or massive mausoleum. Better the inscription 
in which living ennobled men stand as syllables 
and sentences, than all the stately measures of the 
studied epitaph — for over such immortal paragraphs 
no moss of forgetfulness can ever grow, and the 
effacing hand of time has no power. 

And now at last the curtain drops upon the 
mortal man. Too long with our tears, our pageants, 
our vain words, we have hindered him from his rest. 
Take, oh Grave thy mighty prey. 

" Take him, oh Death, and bear away- 
Whatever thou can'st call thine own. 
Thine image stamped upon his clay- 
Doth give thee that — but that alone." 

His mighty soul is still marching on. The inspir- 
ation of his life — the lessons of his greatness — 
the full orbed splendor of his glory — fly wide as the 
flag he loved — far as the land he saved is known. 
He has grasped the true immortality. His witness 
is in heaven — his record is written on high. 



ijj O '^ 



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